Creepy Doll
by Twilight Vestige
Summary: As they say: "The show's not over, 'till the little girl sings." Based on a song by Jonathan Coulton.


AN: Based on the song by Jonathan Coulton, give it a listen! And I've been writing Fracture on the side, it's just been taking awhile. D: *is shot*

Anyways, I really wanted to write this. XD

* * *

Conker paced the musty halls of his newly acquired castle, flashlight in hand. He quickly learned that regardless of the time of day, the palace remained in perpetual darkness, perhaps highlighting his own feelings he thought as he continued exploring. He had been unable to sleep, memories of that horrid day invading his mind only causing him more unrest. He figured, while he was wide awake and bored, now would be the best time to explore his new habitat.

His flashlight beam eventually set on a flight of stairs, leading upwards into an otherwise formless abyss. A creaking sound, like that of a chair leg scraping across a floorboard, met his ears.

"Rats. Figures, that's the _last_ thing I need…"

Sighing deeply, he caught a marking of a letter 'B' on the floor in his flashlight beam, the room suddenly becoming brighter as an idea manifested itself above his head. Producing a gas mask and a can of mustard gas from his coat pocket, the squirrel proceeded up the stairs.

An onslaught of uneasiness struck him suddenly as he approached the very top of the stairs, a rusted doorknob being his only greeting. As he made a reach for the corroded handle, he withdrew his hand, taking a sharp breath. He shook his head in self ridicule.

"What is this, some kind of cheap B-movie?"

Without further hesitation, Conker gripped the knob and gave it a good twist.

Conker could have sworn he saw a frayed dress disappear beyond the doorframeas he waved his torch around, trying to flush out whatever it was that made the noise.

And then he saw it._  
_

A small, limp figure starred back at him from across the room, meeting his gaze despite its head slumping to the side. The doll's eyes must have been broken, for one eye remained closed even as the doll sat upright. Its hair was held up in identical blonde pigtails, a pink bow resting between them. It had the outward appearance of a hand puppet as both of its legs were missing. The doll wore a red shirt and a blue overall dress.

Conker felt his blood run cold as the fractured smile of the doll began moving.

"_Mr. Squirrel…" __  
_

Releasing a pent up, muffled, scream, Conker let the mustard gas can clatter to the floor as he made a mad dash to the door, somehow managing to keep hold of his trusted flashlight. He took to descending the stairs two and three steps at a time as he hurried along the corridor whence he came, eventually coming to his own private quarters and bolting the door shut. Panting heavily, he struggled to light the fireplace, hoping to find comfort in a lit room.

Conker hung around the open flame like a moth, attempting to calm his nerves and sort out what exactly he had seen.

"It can't be…that, whatever it was, had to have been destroyed when the base blew up!" He spoke aloud, finding no condolence in his words and in the otherwise silent room. Chalking it up to a lack of sleep, Conker slipped into slumber, leaving the fireplace to devour its dinner well into the night.

Conker awoke to the abysmal dreariness of the former king's bedchamber. Finding himself lost in layers of bed sheets, the squirrel fought to free himself before tumbling onto the floor. A timid rapping sounded from outside the massive oak door.

"S'scuse me? Sire?"

"What? What is it? I'm a bit tied up," he replied, kicking about the sheets and trying to get up.

"There's a package for you, sire."

The king stopped thrashing, cocking his head to the side and trying to determine who would send him something, and what exactly they would send.

"Now, we've already established that this is a horror story, so if someone is sending me a package, it's going to be something… horrific," he deduced, finally standing and approaching the door.

The slight and corpulent weasel guards stood in the doorway, the fat one carrying a wooden box while the other held a silver key.

"G-good morning, sire," the thin one greeted, cracking an awkward smile.

"We 'had a visitor this mornin'; left ya a package 'e did."

"Package?"

"A man in a dark robe," the one with the key continued. "Rather pale, carried a sharp stick with him."

"Oh, really?" Conker tried to appear enthused, "Well, let's see what you've got then."

The two presented the gifts.

"The key's even been engraved."

"So…so it has," Conker confirmed, noting his own name etched into the old key. Taking the items, he turned back to the two guards.

"I guess you can be on your way then."

"Yes, sire."

With a final salute, the two retreated down the corridor. Waiting until they were out of site, Conker shut the door quietly, walking back to the bed. He eyed the key suspiciously, bringing his gaze to the lock on the box.

"Only thing left now is to open it, right?"

Conker half expected an explosion, or some sort of bodily harm as the key clicked open the lock. A part of him even expected the doll to be there, as cliché as it was.

Empty space was in the box.

"Well, that was rather suspenseful," he concluded, pocketing the key. A snapping sound caught his attention as he looked to the fireplace, a dying ember resting between the logs.

Was it still there?

This new idea suddenly tormented him, and a compelling curiosity struck him like a freight train.

He had to go look.

Opening the bedside drawer and retrieving his trusted Krotch forty-five, and arming himself with his flashlight, Conker left his room and retraced his steps from the previous night. He approached that all too familiar door, suddenly feeling a longing for Confidence Pills as he cautiously twisted the knob. Conker flung the door open widely, firing a shot from his weapon as a warning. Only the echo of the gunshot was heard.

_"You little….!"_

The doll floated towards him, before being illuminated by his light. The bullet had gone straight through the flower decoration on the dress.

Her single, functioning eye rolled from the back of her head to stare at him.

_"Don't_ _you know… that it's not nice to hit a girl?"_

He felt himself go impossibly white as the puppet drew near. With only one other option, he bolted for the door again, with the bewitched toy in pursuit. A plan formed in his mind as he felt for the key in his pocket; that box _was_ doll sized. Finally coming across his room, he fled inside, locking the door to bide time, and retrieving the box.

Not long after, the door was blown off its hinges, yielding an empty room.

_"Mr. Squirrel…" _the little girl called, making a round about the room,_ "I never agreed to play games with you…"_

Her flight was cut short as she felt something suddenly encase her. Conker struggled to keep the lid on the box shut as he inserted the key into the lock, while quietly wondering why she couldn't burst to cover off the package as she did the door.A devious smirk appeared on his face as he chucked the box into the fireplace, a Context Sensitive Area making itself known to him. He produced a flame thrower on the spot, igniting what remained of the logs from the night before, as well as the doll.

Satisfied at the sudden silence coming from the box, Conker turned to leave the room when something stopped him.

The girl hovered before him, unscathed.

_"As they say: 'The show's not over, 'till the little girl sings.'"_

Conker naturally looked to the fireplace, suddenly wishing he hadn't.

The box was no longer empty, but was instead occupied by a little doll…

A doll in his resemblance.

Conker felt an intense wave of heat suddenly crash over him as his breath cut short. He slumped to the floor, flames beginning to grow around him as his vision blacked out.


End file.
